"Look at the cobwebs," said Foster.
"Look at the mildew," said Aunt Hilda.
"Look at the stuffing coming out of the chairs," said Portia.
"Oh, dear," said Mrs. Blake.
The place really was a spectacle of decay. At one end of the large room a curtain made of bamboo beads hung sadly, many of its strands fallen to the floor in little heaps; and in one corner a deep divan piled with cushions was tented over with a canopy draped on a pair of spears, and simply sagging with a weight of dust.
"A Turkish cozy corner!" Aunt Hilda sighed with pleasure. "Great-Aunt Ida had one exactly like it. I'm sure there's not another left in all the world."
"This one won't be left for very long, either," Mrs. Blake assured her. "Foster, don't sit down on it!"
"Heck, why not?"
"It's probably full of spiders," Portia told him.
"Or maybe rats?" Foster suggested hopefully.